


Thought and Memory

by beemotionpicture



Series: bee's Thor's Week 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon, Character Study, Depression, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemotionpicture/pseuds/beemotionpicture
Summary: The Norns—those that rule the fate of gods and men—are three of the most powerful beings in the universe.What then does that make Thor, who dares defy them?





	Thought and Memory

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter originally for Thor’s Week 2019’s Day 3: Grief.
> 
> A Thor character study, because we need more of them.

_“What more could I lose?”_

**PART I.**

“Where’d he go?” The words are not accusing. He almost wishes that they were.

His breath comes short, his composure gone. It is a wonder how he can even breathe at all.

“Thor?” Steve nudges again. He cannot answer.

A coldness has settled under his skin, a deep ache in in his bones. It is not like the cold of Jotunheim, sharp and piercing and all too painful. No, on the contrary, this cold dulls his senses, leaving him unable to feel the dead weight of Stormbreaker in his hand, or to smell the death in the air.

“Where’d he go?”

Probably for the best. He does not need another reminder as to what he has done.

  
  
  


Stormbreaker’s handle disintegrates as soon as Thor lets it go.

Rabbit approaches him slowly, as though in shock, and _keens_ at the sight—and as soon as the silence breaks, the dam seems to as well.

It takes mere seconds for the panic to set in. Rabbit collapses, clawing at Stormbreaker and cursing profusely when he grasps the axe, huge in his furry palms.  
  
Of course he would be able to lift it, Thor thinks idly. It is not Mjolnir. Father’s enchantment is no more.

Hela had wielded Mjolnir, once. Thor wonders what that means. Do they share the same spirit?

He had left Hela behind to die on Asgard. Hela who had not been raised with him, but was still his own flesh and blood. There was no reasoning with her, he had thought. In the days since Asgard had been destroyed, he had been telling himself that a lot. Maybe one day he’ll even come to believe it.

His friends had tried to lift Mjolnir once, but Odin’s magic had deemed them unworthy.

This has taught him that worthiness is not found in some enchantment, but in oneself.

That said, would Thor be worthy to lift Stormbreaker, now?

  
  
  


Queen Shuri, Black Panther of Wakanda, offers them a place to stay and regroup. Steve accepts and the others, as always, follow his lead.

Thor knows this is not a time to be distracted. He cannot _mope_ , he does not get to, he does not deserve to.

After the initial shock of their loss, Steve had gotten to his feet, steeling himself.

“Gather the survivors. Their wounds need to be treated.”

“Steve,” Natasha had said slowly, reaching out to touch him. But Steve had turned away to march back into the battlefield and help the others.

Thor had stared at his back. The others followed Steve eventually.

That was hours ago. Now, they have reached the palace.

It is not exactly the time for introductions, but Rhodey tries anyway. Thor learns the names of the two people he does not recognize: Chief M’Baku of the Jabari, and General Okoye of the Dora Milaje. She merely inclines her head, while he does not acknowledge Thor.   


Thor had noticed the Jabari and Dora Milaje in battle, of course. He had felt honored fighting beside them, reliving the days when he stood with the Einherjar, recalling the times he had pretended he was one of the Valkyries.

Now he cannot make himself meet their eyes. He bites his lip in uncertainty. He is introduced to the other Wakandans, the ones that remain.

Queen Shuri is far too young for the burden she now bears. Thor wants to speak with her desperately, because he knows intimately the feeling of that weight, to have a whole people look to him while he pretends he has any idea what he’s doing.

He recognizes the expression on her face because it is the same one that rests on his. She grieves for her brother and he understands that as well.

As soon as she can, Shuri locks herself in her lab with Vision’s body. Days later, Bruce follows to assist her. If Thor had the energy, he would wonder when they eat and sleep. But he has not, and so he does not.

  
  
  


The public calls it the culling, like the disappearance of 3.8 billion people—or so Bruce had told him—is some divine reckoning. Steve and the others, who know better, call it the snap.

Thor merely calls it his failure.

  
  
  


When the world can wait no longer, the heroes come out of hiding.

Steve gives an impassioned speech to all the people of Earth, broadcasted from Wakandan soil. Shuri stands beside him, as do the remaining Avengers.   
  
Their backdrop is the field in which the battle had occurred, scarred and scorched with embers on the ground. The ashes do not disappear, as if to mock them.

It is the first time they stand on that ground since the battle. Thor stares blankly ahead of him as the broadcast happens. He wills himself to focus. This is important. This is the least he can do.

Still, his mind wanders.

He wonders if the dead disintegrated as well, or if Loki’s and Heimdall’s and Asgard’s— _not a place, but a people_ —bodies had been left to rot.

He wonders which he would prefer, but then he realizes that it does not matter. Either way, he gets no closure.

They each take turns speaking as they had agreed upon. He learns only then that the others had become criminals while he was busy on his quest to find the infinity stones, an effort that had been futile in the end.

He is ashamed to realize that he hadn’t noticed Clint’s absence until now. Had he died in the snap, as well? He tries so hard to remember if he had seen Clint during the battle.

Stark is missing as well, but Bruce had told him that. For someone who had been off-world for two years, Bruce seems to have caught up on things rather quickly.

Thor knows he should put more of an effort to do the same. He tells himself he shall, but that is all he ends up doing. Telling himself to be better. Willing himself to be better. Trying to shake it off, as he has done so many times before.

The others, he thinks, believe that he should be treated delicately. They walk on eggshells around him, and this frustrates him more than anything else. Sometimes, he gives into that bitter feeling.

This thought crosses his mind more than once: this is unfair. None of this is fair. He has lost so much, what had he ever done to deserve this?

Then he sees the others who have lost just as much, yet constantly strive to move on. And those who do not want to move on make efforts to fix things.

He is the only one with such an ugly, terrible fault within him.

It is fair that he feels this guilt. That is what’s fair.

  
  
  


Thor does not enjoy anything, anymore.

  
  
  


Natasha and Bruce do not speak.

This is by design. Bruce remains in Shuri’s lab, while Natasha keeps herself preoccupied.

  
After things have settled, the first thing she does is contact Clint.

Well, at least now Thor knows where Clint is.

Natasha does not cry, ever, nor does she come close to doing so when they speak. But Natasha mourns, mourns for the ones she had considered family.

 _Cooper, Lila, Nathaniel._ Thor had never bothered to learn their names, but Natasha tells him who they are. Were.

Now there are two more parents in the world who mourn for their children. Thor does not believe Natasha means to cause him such pain, but all telling him does is scratch five more notches into his heart, or where it used to be.

  
  
  


Tree, Barnes, Sam Wilson. Maximoff and Shuri’s brother. He barely knew any of them, and yet their loss leaves a gaping wound in his chest. It festers, and Thor cannot understand why; he has kept going for so long—loss after loss and nothing.

Thor has been awash in grief since Loki…since Loki. The first time, with the Bifrost. Next on Svartalfheim. Lastly, on the Statesman _._

But he has always restrained his mourning, first as prince of Asgard, second as an Avenger of Earth, third as protector of the nine realms. Finally, as King, although now he has nothing and no one to be king of, king for.

He has moved forward, despite it all. But now, everything comes to a complete halt. Time slows down and he feels as though he is in a thick fog, wading through a swamp made of tar, going deeper and deeper until he is submerged in it.  
  
He longs to close his eyes and let the lightning sing in his blood yet again, igniting a spark as the flames swallow him whole.

  
  
  


“Thor?”

Distantly the voice calls him, waking him from his reverie.

It feels oddly familiar, this. He has been lost in thought for a while now—for weeks, even. It seems as though everyone is against letting him rest, though to do so is all that Thor wants: to curl up until the shooting pain in his chest turns into a sharpness, until the sharpness turns into a throb, until the throb turns into an ache. But no one will leave him be, and so the pain remains.

After a moment, he turns his head to the source of the sound.

“...Captain,” he says, finally. “Rogers.”

Steve smiles sadly, and he takes the seat next to Thor. They watch as the sun sets over the vast plains, watch as the sky bleeds from vermillion to a deep violet, giving way to night. They sit there in a silence that feels neither heavy nor uncomfortable. They sit there for so long that Thor falls into another daze, one that Steve has to gently shake him out of.

“…Thor?” Steve says lowly.

Thor thinks, then, that perhaps the silence had been in his mind all along.

He nods once to acknowledge he is listening.

Steve is smiling still, but it is weary and battle-worn. He has fought wars all his life. He has fought and won but now he has seen loss as well.

“Is it anything like Asgard?” Steve gestures at the scene outside.

Steve does not know, Thor realizes. No one has told him.

Of course. The only other person who could have told him is Bruce, and he has been…hm. Thor does not know where he has been. Thor spends all his time in his own quarters, after all.

“No,” he says. “It is nothing like Asgard.”

Steve merely inclines his head, waiting.

It seems as though all anyone ever does is wait for him, nowadays. Wait for Thor to gather his composure, wait for him to come back to himself from wherever it is that his mind wanders off to.

He wonders where that is himself; there is no place he can run to in all of the nine realms. He can’t help but see his failings everywhere.

“Asgard is no more. Banner has not told you anything?” So much time has passed, and yet so little as well.

“He said it wasn’t his story to tell.”

Thor shrugs. “That is hardly true. Banner was instrumental in defeating my sister.”

“Sister?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

Thor gives him a small but tired smile at that, and recounts what had happened these past two years.

They sit for a long time after he finishes, thoughts stewing in the air.

Finally, Steve nods. “I think I understand a bit more. Thank you for telling me, Thor.”

Thor watches as he makes to get up. Unable to help himself, he blurts, “And you, Captain? How do you fare?”

If Steve is surprised by the question he doesn’t show it.

Steve answers him with a wry, “I’ll live. We have to keep moving forward.”

The grief is in his eyes, still. Thor sees himself in them so clearly now. Steve has loved and lost countless times, and the Norns have willed the same fate on him again. Yet Steve remains steadfast in his desire to heal. Thor wonders how they could respond to the same thing so differently.

What does he lack, exactly?

Steve stands up when Thor stares at him blearily. A quick glance over his shoulder at the projected time shows that hours have passed. Midnight has come and gone, and it seems as though the conversation is over.

Thor is ready once more to retreat into himself when Steve speaks again.

“Also, Thor?” The sad smile is there again. “It’s just Steve now.”

Steve squeezes his shoulder, then turns and walks away.

  
  
  


Rhodey comes to him next.

“Colonel Rhodes,” he acknowledges. Or, like Steve, is it just Rhodey now?

“Hey,” he says with a small smile, giving him a nod. Rhodey has been kind to him since they first met. Of course, he is also wry and sarcastic—Thor supposes that is why Tony is so fond of him—but he is warm, always.

Sure enough, it is Tony that Rhodey brings up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Rhodey begins, cutting straight to the point. “If Tony’s still out there, what do you think are the chances of him making it back?”

Thor has a feeling that it pained him to say, but from merely looking at Rhodey, one wouldn’t be able to tell. For all his warmth towards others, he is stringent with himself, uncompromising. He does not let himself be weak because he cannot afford it.

Bruce had told him about their encounter with the children of Thanos and the aircraft Tony had followed out into space.

Thor could not possibly know the answer to that. Rhodey understands this, but he asks anyway. If it were any other person, Thor would think they seek words of comfort or reassurance for their peace of mind. But he knows enough about Rhodey to see that he sincerely wants to know his opinion on it.

“Stark is resourceful,” he says. “If any one of you could survive out there, it would be him.”

“But?”

Thor smiles wryly. “He’d have to procure a ship or board one headed in this direction—and even if he manages that, finding planets to dock on with non hostile inhabitants…well. You know as well as I do how vexing Stark can be.”

It is an answer, but perhaps an unrealistically optimistic one.

Rhodey looks at him and hears the words Thor didn’t say. To his credit, he nods and leaves it at that.

Thor thinks that’s all he came to ask and is surprised when Rhodey continues.

“Tony and I have known each other for a long time,” he says, and Thor does not know where this is going. “Over three decades now. Might not be long to you, maybe, but for us that’s practically a lifetime.”

“Oh?”

“Uhuh.” Rhodey doesn’t glance at him, looking inwardly instead. “We met at university. I’ve always been ahead of my peers, but then this scrawny fourteen year old comes along and makes me question if I know anything at all.”

Thor tilts his head in response, waiting for him to continue.

Rhodey barks out a laugh. “And I don’t mean that he was, I don’t know, wise or whatever—Tony did a lot of dumb shit. A _lot_ of dumb shit. Vexing doesn’t even cover it. I wanted to throttle him most of the time.”

Thor opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Ah, I’m sorry but—why are you telling me this?”

Rhodey quirks his lips and shrugs. “Just wanted an excuse to talk about him, I guess. I miss him.”

Thor doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“He’s important to me. He was kidnapped once, it was how he became Iron Man. I did everything in my power to find him—it took a while, but I managed it. And then when I—” he gestures at his legs.

Thor doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking at. When he sees the braces, he wants to close his eyes in frustration at yet another thing he had ignored in favor of himself.

Rhodey continues. “When I thought I wouldn’t ever walk again, he made it so that I could. That’s just what we do for each other, you know? That’s just…us.”

Thor’s conflicted expression does not change.

“I just wish I could tell myself that I did everything that I could for him this time around. I think that, one day—I’ll come to terms with the fact that, even if I had tried everything, it still wasn’t enough. And while it’ll eat at me forever…it wasn't my fault. You get me?”

Thor stares, thinking about just how transparent he must be that Rhodey had thought to approach him about this.

Rhodey’s face twists in another wry expression, this time more pained. He claps a hand on Thor’s shoulder and says, “Listen, man. Things are bad right now. They’ll get better. You have to believe they’ll get better. You have to keep working toward that direction.”

  
  
  
  


Clint follows, and Thor wonders if there is some kind of pattern that he’s missing.

Clint raises a hand in a careless wave. His other hand remains in his pocket, and Thor suspects that it’s clenched despite how casual Clint is outwardly.

“I hadn’t realized you’d come to Wakanda.”

“Arrived last night. Nat seemed like she needed me.”

“And you, what do you need?”

Clint shrugs. “A distraction, I suppose. You mind if I sit?”

Thor gestures at a seat. “Go ahead.”

Clint sinks down into the plush seat and reclines, lolling his head back to look at the ceiling.

It’s quiet for about five seconds before Thor can no longer resist. He blurts out, “I apologize. I heard about your children from Natasha.”

He doesn’t flinch or anything like Thor expects. Instead he rolls his neck to look at him lazily. “Don’t know why you’re apologizing. S’not like it’s your fault.”

Thor holds his tongue.

Clint exhales sharply through his nose in some mockery of amusement. “Yeah. Nat told me you’ve been moping.”

Thor can’t help it—he winces.

Clint shakes his head and straightens up in his seat, looking Thor in the eye. “I mean it. It’s no one’s fault but Thanos’. All right?”

He nods, but even he can tell it’s weak.

Clint looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but not to be cruel or anything. He just looks tired like everyone else. Clint drums his fingers against the armrest, shakes his leg—he’s constantly moving.

It’s a stark difference from Thor who stays so still, afraid to even move.

“I’ll never get over it,” Clint says bluntly. His sharp eyes haven’t left Thor once. “You kinda never get over something like that.”

Thor understands that. Truly.

“I didn’t want to come here but Nat needed me, like I said. Laura hasn’t cried once. Hasn’t let herself.” He raised an eyebrow at Thor. “Have you?”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of therapy session? I saw Sam Wilson once at Steve’s request. He’s a lot better than you at this, I’m afraid.”

Clint does roll his eyes this time at the lame attempt at a joke. “Sam isn’t _anything_ anymore, Thor.”

That shuts Thor up.

  
  
  


Finally, it is Bruce who comes to speak to him.

“Speak _to_ him”, because the conversation is hardly two-sided. It lasts barely half an hour, much shorter than the others, and yet his spiel is what changes the course of Thor’s fate.

Thor hears him speak of grief, about denial and anger and depression and acceptance.

Thor listens with half an ear, but one word catches his attention.

_Bargaining._

  
  
  


Thor dreams of a woman.  
  
She flickers, and suddenly there are two more of her, and each looks different. They are beautiful, all three of them. It is subtle—for while they look similar, one has a face of a child, another that of a wizened elder, and the last that of a young woman.

It is the maiden who approaches him, reaching upwards to cup his cheek tenderly before clawing his eye out.

He looks down at his reflection and sees that he is not himself. Thor is worn from years of battle, but his hair has never been gray nor has he ever had such a stern expression on his face. He carries a babe in his arms and he knows it is Loki, the brother he could never save.

Three times it’s been, now. He knows in his heart that Loki is dead, as is half the universe.

  
  
  


Thor wakes up, and knows what he needs to do.

  
  
  


With a renewed sense of purpose, he leaves in the middle of the night. He brings nothing with him, for he has no need of material possessions where he is going.

Thor is once again made distinctly aware of the magic he had become desensitized to. Wakanda is rich with it: there is static in the air, a thrumming in the water, a pull from the earth beneath him.

This is how he finds what he is looking for, a deep fissure underneath a rock formation. He cannot fit into the crag, so he musters up all his remaining strength to dig deep into its sides and pull the rocks apart. There is a deep crack in the ground now, glinting and gleaming like the crystals of the Bifrost, and he steps backwards to inspect his work. Then he runs, and hurls himself off the edge and into the abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Thor-centric discord](https://discord.gg/4dahRt8), if anyone is interested in joining. This is an INCEST-FREE server.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://beemotionpicture.tumblr.com).


End file.
